


Blood

by Mimsys



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Gen, Nudity, bath scene, blood mention, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5958994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimsys/pseuds/Mimsys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rowan isn't exactly pleased when his queen comes home reaking of blood in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood

Rowan

He smells the blood on her first, and he’s sitting up and throwing the covers aside before he can process anything else. When he stumbles out into the hallway, slamming on Aedion’s door with one hand as he passes it to rouse the demi-fae, he can tell that it’s not hers. Not mostly hers, at least. Aelin was wearing her skintight black suit and her knees and down were drenched in blood, some splatter extending even higher as if she had jumped in a puddle of the dark substance - red, not black. Beneath that, was the faint scent of her own blood, and that’s what had Rowan striding closer and tugging her hood down to bare her masked face. “Where are you hurt?” He demanded, careful not to let his grip get bruising despite his worry.

“I’m not.” His queen soothed, tugging off the mask and throwing it aside; Rowan could have caught it but refused to let her go until he was sure, fingers flexing against her skin. “Rowan, really. None of it’s mine.” Still, the fae reached out for her calloused hands, stripping off her gloves and tossing them aside so he could inspect her skin for scrapes. “ _Careful_.” Aelin pulled away, reminding him sharply of the hidden blades of her suit as Aedion stumbled out of his room, drawing a pair of swords that flashed in the dim lighting of the apartment. “Put those _away_.” There was an edge to her voice that Rowan just wanted to kiss away (and couldn’t).

“I can smell your blood.” He protested softly, dipping down to pick up the discarded gloves; Aedion reached for them, freeing Rowan’s hands so the man could comfort his carranam. “It’s under theirs, but I can smell it. Did they cut you? We’ll need to clean it, with this much mess on your skin.”

Aelin huffed, bending down to remove her black boots; when she removed them, she rolled up her pants legs as much as the tight suit would allow, showing flaking, red wyrdmarks against her pale skin. “It was protection.” She replied, a faint tension in her tone from the other’s overprotective behavior. “Not an injury.”

“Ah.” And didn’t he feel like an idiot, now. And deserving of a tongue lashing for doubting and manhandling his queen, if she chose to reprimand him. “I’ll draw you a bath, then.”

Aelin

It was hard to be mad when they were all so worried, but she still found enough frustration in herself to be irked, at least. They knew she was competent and could handle herself; she’d lost her people before, and had no desire to risk them again. To lure them into traps like

Sam.

Her Sam.

Rowan moved off towards their shared bathroom and Aelin smiled weakly at her cousin, stepping forward in her bare feet to tug him into a quick hug. “Don’t look so worried, Aedion. Nothing’s stopped me yet. Go back to sleep; we’ll talk more in the morning, if Rowan’s still fussing.”

“I heard that!” Her carranam called out from the bathroom, and a faint smirk tugged at Aelin’s lips as the other blond, her twin in all but blood, moved back to bed. If the fae had still been in the room with her, he would have seen the words dancing behind blue and gold eyes. _You were supposed to_. Instead of replying verbally, she moved into her bedroom and began to strip out of the drenched suit, tossing it into the sink when she prowled into the bathroom naked; Rowan had seen every inch of her before, and she refused to be ashamed of her body simply because they were in a more intimate setting. “I added the scents you like.” He murmured softly, a clear peace offering since the strong smells stung his sensitive nose.

“I appreciate it.” The smell of basil and lavender intertwined in the mist rising from the tub, and Aelin sighed with pleasure as she sank into it, easing her sore body down into the warm waters. “I didn’t mean to worry you, but you know-”

“I know.” Rowan allowed, kneeling beside the tub and reaching out to grab the lavender soap she preferred. “I don’t agree, and I don’t like it, but I do understand.” The first touch of creamy soap over her skin had the woman stretched out further, lifting her arm from the water so he could begin to scrub the drying blood from her skin, a washcloth following after the suds. “Just relax. You’re safe and home now, and that’s what matters.” _You’re with me._ His fond, concerned gaze added.

The blonde chuckled to herself, closing her eyes, “I am.”

They continued like this until her skin was clean, Rowan washing off her arms, chest, stomach, and legs, the places she’d marked up with a shield of cantrips. It was strangely intimate, perhaps more so because of the fact that she never spoke, only letting out whispering sighs at the sensations as he continued. When Rowan was finally done, he stepped back and let her continue to relax in the water until it began to cool. “If only I could heat it myself…” She sighed wistfully, standing up and reaching for a towel to wrap around her scarred torso.

“One day, magic will return to Adarlan, and you will return to Terrasen.” Rowan murmured as he released the water. “Do you want me to-”

“Please.” They rarely had to finish each other’s sentences until it was for the benefit of others, and Rowan hummed contentedly as he began to dry her wet hair, brushing out the snarls and blood until her hair shone like burnished gold, damp tendrils tickling her clavicles.

“Which nightgown?” The fae asked, sweeping his gaze over her form as she finished drying off. “The one with white roses is clean, if you’d like?” She nodded, starting to let her efforts slow as she began to sag. “Just sit on the edge of the bed and rest, Fireheart. I’ll wash off the suit.” He laid out the nightgown - short, frilly, and cream colored with delicate roses sprinkling the plunging neckline - and then moved his attention to the suit, which had been neglected during her bath.

“You’re too good to me.” Aelin mumbled, changing and crawling into bed as soon as she could. “You know that, right?” 

“I claimed you. The least I could do is give you a bath.” Rowan returned dismissively, ignoring the warmth rising in his chest.

Rowan

Aelin is asleep by the time her suit is clean, dry, and hung up; the blankets have yet to slip from her shoulders, although he has no doubt that they will, and the fact that she is asleep without him at all tells how exhausted she had been. How many deaths had it taken to create enough blood to splash her suit so badly? How many fights had he failed to protect her from?

When he slides under the covers and wraps an arm around her slim waist, his queen curls closer without question, pressing her face into his chest as she sought warmth and comfort. “I will keep you safe, Fireheart. You are mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments/kudos if you enjoy! I was in a lot of pain when I wrote this and I didn't have time to beta it, so I understand that it may not be perfect.


End file.
